


you know you've got a hold over me

by nervousbakedown



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Romance, Tour Fic, Writing about writing, several references to 80s music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousbakedown/pseuds/nervousbakedown
Summary: Dan sits on the edge of his seat as Jon goes through the lead-up about a special election, in order to ask him a question about it. He almost wants to let Jon keep talking. The shine of the stage lighting makes his brown eyes twinkle. Dan has to look away, nod and listen while looking at the floor for a moment, or else he’ll become too distracted.~The one where Dan falls in love with Jon on tour.





	you know you've got a hold over me

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to maddie & sev for going over this :)
> 
> based on a real world, but entirely a work of fiction

He is far more excited for this than he should be. It is seven o’clock in the morning in San Francisco, and Dan is waiting at the airport for the rest of the gang to arrive. He’s going to meet with the rest of them and they're all going to board a flight to DC for another leg of live shows.

Dan misses them. The more he thinks about it, he misses them a lot. They’ve all been separated for a long time now; the heydays of the Obama White House are long over, but Dan still misses them. While he’s only a few years older than the three of them, Dan feels like he watched Jon, Lovett, and Tommy grow up, feels like he watched them go from idealistic bright eyed _kids_ to “real” adults before his very eyes.

Right now, Dan sits in the airport and thinks about this as he scrolls twitter. Their tweets constantly pop up on his feed in a non-chronological fashion (damn Twitter algorithms), showing him the nearly identical thoughts the three have had throughout the day. They’re like the liberal Three Musketeers, and while they might not literally save America, they're certainly doing something to make the day to day of the Trump reality TV show Presidency bearable. Dan misses them. He taps on Jon’s profile, and huffs out a laugh to himself when he notices he’s surpassed one million followers. One-fucking-million. When did that happen?

It’s not surprising though, Dan thinks. It’s the least surprising thing he’s seen this morning, and at least four bombastic news stories out of the Trump administration have broken overnight.

The thing people don’t realize? Jon didn’t always have that kind of charisma. In the decade Dan has known Jon he has watched him transform from a hesitant yet undeniably bright communicator to a master of Twitter, a master of engaging an audience, a master of being alluring. In the past, Dan only knew of Jon’s magnetic qualities when it came to his famed days as a serial dater in DC. Now his allure is something else entirely.

Dan scrolls through Jon’s Twitter feed and realizes that while he likes this Jon -- the attractive smooth-talker that every Democratic operative and activist group has on their radar -- he really misses the other one. Dan misses the actual Jon, his friend Jon, the one who can be really loud, who slouches when he’s drinking on the couch, the one whose voice gets even more low and throaty when he’s just relaxing. Dan misses the Jon that used to pop into his office at least once a day to talk communication strategy, misses the Jon that used to make spur of the moment trips to San Francisco to record _Keepin’ it 1600_ with him occasionally.

It has been three months since they last saw each other in person. In a time when a week feels like a year, three months is a very long time. Three months is the death and rebirth of dread on endless loop, of gaining hope only to lose it again three hours later, ad infinitum. Three months. 

Dan looks around the airport at the different terminals, at the crowds of people somehow still going about life when it feels like the world is ending. Dan knows Jon takes all of this very hard; it’s work he feels compelled to do, work he’s privileged to do, but there are days he feels incredibly beaten down. Dan has those days too, those feelings, and they talk about them before and after recording the Thursday pod. They’ll have full conversations before, full conversations after, sometimes only ending because Jon is being told by his producers they need to do ads or someone else needs the studio.

Dan loses time sometimes, listening to that voice, only his voice. Dan makes sure to squeeze jokes in during these hard conversations, as if to punctuate them and hopefully leave Jon feeling better. And to make him laugh. Dan always smiles and stares at the wall of his office when he hears Jon’s laugh over the line, clear as day. Sometimes he tries to picture Jon’s face at those moments, but the longer he goes without seeing him in person the harder it gets. 

The airport is buzzing with people and Dan looks for his face in the crowd. He could never miss him; it’s a face and stature that has gone through much transformation in the past five years or so. From pale to tan, slimmer, and somehow taller than in ‘08. He has grey hair now, he knows that from the last time he saw him. Dan also knows Jon is greying because he watches the livestreams occasionally. It has been three months since he last saw Jon in person, and Dan’s mind wanders to how grey his hair will be when he walks up to him at any moment now.

Any moment now. Dan feels a pang in his chest looking at Jon’s Twitter still open on his phone, reconciling the Twitter persona Jon and the Jon he misses. He closes Twitter and decides to read NBA news instead. 

Dan’s reliving the stressful Sixers game last night when he receives a text from Jon.

 _Just landed! :)_ the text reads. Dan texts back that he’s waiting near the gate, sans smiley face. He’s never been an emoji guy, but Jon is.

A few minutes later, the unmistakable group enters Dan’s field of vision — Lovett and Tommy, marked by their stark height difference; Elijah by his wiry frame and dark hair; Travis by his blonde swoop of hair; Tanya by her graceful yet commandeering presence; a woman Dan doesn’t recognize but must be their new assistant, Juliet. Like Tanya, she has a confident way about her; it’s clear she and Tanya are going to be the real brains behind the whole operation. It kind of reminds him of Alyssa.

Jon emerges from the pack then, gently shoulders his way past Travis so he can stand in front of everyone. Jon in a navy v-neck long sleeve shirt, hair flecked with more grey than Dan remembers, just like he anticipated. He smiles that characteristic, gap-toothed, golden smile, skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that only adds to the alluring quality about him.

“Hey, Dan!” Jon says. He takes a few long strides and before Dan even knows it he’s stepping into his space, extending the one arm that isn’t holding his bag. Dan laughs and does the same, hugs Jon briefly, one-armed. It’s over almost as quick as it began, but Dan still feels Jon’s chin pressed into his shoulder moments afterward.

“Back in beautiful San Francisco,” Tommy remarks, turning his attention to Dan and patting him on the back. “How are you, man?”

Jon steps aside, and from there they wander off to find a place to relax before they board their connecting flight to DC. The LA-ers chat excitedly, mostly taking turns asking Dan questions about his life. Dan asks them questions and learns that things are status quo -- well, the undercurrent of dread is, but the Crooked office is somehow shrinking and no longer apt to their needs.

“Also, there’s rats,” Lovett says.

“There’s only one rat,” Jon clarifies.

“There’s _a_ rat,” Lovett says. “We named him Pablo.”

Travis cuts in, “ _I_ named him Pablo. I swear, Jon, you never give me credit.”

They miraculously find some empty seats near the gate. Tommy and Lovett sit on the floor, but the rest of them sit down in the chairs. Jon sits beside Dan, crossing his legs and pulling out his phone. It isn’t long before Jon sighs and looks at Dan, asks him, “So what do you think about the news, Dan?”

Dan laughs, “That’s, like, the vaguest question you’ve ever asked me.”

Jon laughs at that -- the laugh Dan has become used to hearing but not seeing. Dan makes sure to watch it now. He watches Jon lean back in his seat and clutch his chest, one palm splayed out, grinning broadly and squeezing his eyes shut as he laughs high-pitched. One might even call it giggling.

~

By the time their plane lands in DC, Dan has had enough of airports. He knows he smells like an airport, and is more than happy to walk out of Dulles and into the tour rental van. It almost makes it feel like they’re a band or something, a small operation, not quite as big as any of the campaigns he’s worked on.

Dan sits in the seat behind Jon. Tommy squeezes in next to him and they exchange friendly chatter about basketball, the Celtics and the Sixers. Jon turns around and watches, getting a word in every now and then about how he doesn’t actually pay that much attention to basketball. Dan teases him.

“I’m hurt, Favreau. Deeply hurt,” he says.

Jon shrugs, his cheek pressed to the side of the seat, having twisted his body to look back at Dan and Tommy. “If the Celtics play the Sixers in LA by some miracle then maybe I’ll go see the game with you.”

“Well that has a zero percent chance of happening because geography is a thing,” Dan pesters back. “You wouldn’t see a game in Philadelphia?”

Jon makes a face at the same time Tommy sort of grunts in disgust and faux-outrage.

“You wouldn’t see a game in Boston?” Jon counters, blinking and raising his eyebrows a few times. Dan is close to saying he would consider it, but for the sake of play-fighting, recognizes he needs to resist that look.

“No way,” Dan replies, bringing his hand up to point at himself. “I have a thing called self-respect.”

Jon and Tommy groan. Dan watches Jon roll his eyes, catches his grin just before he turns back around. Dan smiles out the window. He smiles even harder when he realizes he’s going to get the opportunity to joke with Jon a lot more the next couple days.

~

They drop off their stuff at the hotel before heading out to dinner. After dinner, they’ll rehearse at the theatre until showtime. Just as Dan anticipated, Juliet and Tanya have them on a tight schedule. The two women stand while the rest of them sit in the frigid lobby, waiting on Travis and Elijah.

“Lovett, you need to control your boys,” Tanya says, her arms crossed.

“Those two?” Lovett raises his eyebrows and gestures to Jon and Tommy, sitting side by side on the couch to his left. 

“No, the other two,” Tanya uncrosses her arms and glances at her phone. “They said they just had to pee.”

“Oh, I have no control over Elijah and Travis,” Lovett scoffs. He gestures to Jon and Tommy. “Completely different dynamic than with these bozos.”

“Hey,” Tommy barks, and Lovett only shrugs.

Dan is amused by the whole exchange -- tickled actually. It’s amazing how well the whole staff, not just the guys doing the talking on the podcasts, have an easygoing dynamic.

“Is it always like this?” Dan asks. 

Jon is the first one to look up upon hearing his voice.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he says. 

When Travis and Elijah finally come down, they’re subject to more jokes and innuendo about what they were doing in the bathroom. At the back of the group is Dan, once again in a place to observe. As they walk out of the lobby, Travis leans into the jokes — he fights to get to the front of the pack and runs a hand through his hair before dramatically holding the door for Elijah.

As Elijah passes by, he tells him, “You’re not my type.”

Laughter echoes as they step outside. Dan didn’t notice at first, but Jon has sidled up next to him. Jon’s shoulder brushes Dan’s just barely as they walk through the parking lot under a grey DC sky.

“Yep, it’s always like this,” Jon laughs under his breath.

~

Jon used to have a lisp. Okay, it wasn’t enough of a lisp to actually be called such, but it was enough that Dan noticed it.

Jon talked with a lisp that was no doubt the result of the small gap between his two front teeth, his slightly crooked smile. Working in close proximity on the campaign trail let Dan in on the secret that Jon’s lisp receded when he was stressed out, or in a formal situation. The lisp came out when he felt at ease, even tired. When Jon asked Dan questions, sitting on the heating register against the wall in his office in the West Wing, he spoke low and relaxed, too many s- and th- sounds in his words.

The lisp mostly disappeared around the same time Jon started growing his hair out again. Dan noticed it less and less, even during the times he was supposed to be hearing it, based on past experience. Jon would knock on his office door to chat and he didn’t sound quite like he did a few months ago. It was a gradual change, and Dan would become aware of it when the lisp came back, slip out for a word like _sustainable_ or _inspiring_. Dan would be snapped back to two years ago, to a Jon with a buzzcut and poor-fitting dress shirts. Jon would have to tilt his head to the side, click his pen and ask _Dan?_ to bring him back to the present.

Dan hears that voice — Jon’s voice — across from him at the dinner table. 

“Dan?” Jon puts his elbows on the table, folds his hands together. “What do you think?”

“About?”

“The Paul Ryan situation!” Jon says. His ‘s’ sounds are whistly, just barely veering into a ‘th’. “Let’s see if you have any interesting takes for the show tonight.”

Jon’s shoulders are relaxed, his face content under the low light of the restaurant dining room. No wonder the lisp came back.

Dan gets back into the conversation, digs into Paul-fucking-Ryan as easy as reciting the alphabet. He does a rant not unlike the rants he does for the Thursday pod, breaks out the phrase _incompetent fuckstick_ to laughter and cheers from the table. Across from him, Jon laughs as he always does.

~

The theatre is opulent, beautiful, with a rounded, gold-ornamented ceiling that makes Dan’s voice echo. It takes a while to get used this change -- from talking to one person to a couple thousand who can quickly react to anything he says. The chairs are set up in an arch formation, so Dan, Lovett, Tommy, and Jon can look at each other when they talk. They go through the show run-down with Tanya, Jon directing the traffic of conversation as usual by asking the basics of the show’s talking points. Dan delivers another impassioned rant regarding Paul Ryan, projecting his voice between the imaginary audience and to his co-hosts to his right. While Dan speaks, he feels as if by the time he actually delivers these lines to the audience he will say the words without thinking.

Backstage, they share one green room. Lovett and Tommy are up to some hijinks with the snacks, fighting over celery and baby carrots like children. Dan sits on the couch across from the counter the two are leaning against and watches Lovett elbow Tommy in the side. He’s about to call them out when Jon comes into the room and sits down beside him.

Jon crosses his right arm over his chest, holding his phone in his left hand. Dan can tell he’s scrolling through Twitter again. Dan doesn’t hold back the light, amused laugh that escapes his throat.

“What?” Jon asks.

“I think you’re addicted to Twitter,” Dan says. 

Jon glances between his phone and Dan for a moment. He eventually decides to stay focused on Dan, looking up at him from his rather slouched position on the couch. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

Dan shrugs. “I don’t know, Jon. You just amuse me sometimes.”

Jon raises his eyebrows. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Shaking his head and smiling, Dan looks back to Lovett and Tommy a few feet in front of him while he gathers his thoughts. The two seemed to have found some peace in their war on the snacks, both of them sitting idly on the counter, kicking their legs back and forth. The contrast between Tommy’s long legs and Lovett’s shorter ones makes Dan smile; the way they’re talking quietly with one another makes him smile. 

Suddenly, Dan feels someone kick his leg. It’s Jon, who is still looking up at Dan with wondering big eyes, waiting for an answer. 

Dan sighs, “Your attention to a medium that only brings you stress and harrassment amuses me.”

“Like I’m the only one obsessed with something that’s bad for me,” Jon admits. He contradicts his statement by locking his phone and putting it screen-side down beside him. 

“You and every other American.”

“You’re right, Dan,” Jon crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe we should just have, I don’t know, silent time before the show. Take a break from Twitter.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dan says. “A moment of zen.”

“Exactly,” Jon smiles. He then gestures over to Lovett and Tommy, where Lovett is leaning over Tommy’s shoulder, both of them looking at his phone while munching on baby carrots. 

“It might be hard convincing those two, though,” Jon says. 

At that moment, Tommy roars, “Ben Shapiro, you sack of shit!”

Dan and Jon look at each other, a knowing look. Jon raises his eyebrows and devolves into laughter. Dan can’t help but giggle, too.

“Yeah, this’ll just be for us,” he says.

~

Dan’s ongoing ruminations about the nature of Jon’s charisma pop up again during the show. Unlike during the lull at the airport, Dan does not have the time to think that deeply right now; instead, he files everything away for later contemplation.

The first matter that begs his attention: Jon’s abilities as host, as primary poser of questions. Dan finds himself enraptured by him. Dan sits on the edge of his seat as Jon goes through the lead-up about a special election, in order to ask him a question about it. He almost wants to let Jon keep talking. The shine of the stage lighting makes his brown eyes twinkle. Dan has to look away, nod and listen while looking at the floor for a moment, or else he’ll become too distracted.

The second matter that Dan is going to inevitably think about later: the easygoing nature of Jon’s mannerisms. If he’s nervous, he does a good job of not letting it show. Dan watches Jon’s hands. He sits in the chair slightly slouched, right leg crossed over left. While Dan constantly feels like he needs to sit up straight as possible, to project his voice, Jon seems to keep to the mantra that the podcast needs to feel like a casual conversation. Dan knows that, in reality, it’s more of a rehearsed conversation than a spur of the moment one, but you would never know that from watching Jon.

Maybe it’s better, then, that most people will listen to this conversation rather than see it. Maybe it’s better, then, that a good number of people will not become enraptured by Jon’s lanky limbs, long gesturing fingers, and concerned eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

Dan’s weekly phone calls with Jon have left him unprepared for the dimension added by actually seeing him. Dan wanted to see him so badly, but somehow in his heart of hearts was not prepared for what he’d actually see.

He gets a small break while Jon and Tommy interview a local activist. Dan stands backstage for a bit, leaning against a wall. He throws out his and Jon’s earlier treatise about taking a break from Twitter. Dan scrolls through his feed to distract himself.

Later. He’ll think about all of this later.

~

Walking around DC means that later comes sooner than Dan anticipated. It’s simply impossible to separate the present from the memories the town evokes. After the show, the gang splits up, each choosing to hit up a bar near the hotel. Dan joins Jon and Lovett at a place they went to all the time back in the day.

After having to speak fairly loud during the show, Jon speaks softly to Dan and Lovett, his voice almost raspy. Because he is apparently on a mission to make himself ache with nostalgia, Dan recalls a night they sat in this very bar. He doesn’t know if Jon remembers it, but Dan hopes he would if he brought it up. 

It was shortly after he and Sarah had divorced.

Dan was a mess. She left, and the next thing he knew his Georgetown apartment was empty, and his chest felt empty, and he was going through the motions of his life. He was almost thankful that work took up most of his time, until he remembered that work was one of the forces that splintered their relationship apart. 

The brokenhearted go to bars. At least that’s what Dan told himself a few nights later, walking down the street, as autumn leaves swirled in the bitter wind. He had no goals in mind, no specific plans to hook up with anyone or try and make connections. Dan wanted to a) get out of the house and b) drink to dull the pain of existence. The standard stuff.

He was only in the bar a few minutes for him to realize that it was awfully rambunctious for a Tuesday night. Not exactly the sad hole-in-the-wall he would’ve preferred. He must’ve gotten confused about which bar Alyssa had recommended for this specific occasion. Regardless, this wasn’t Doom and Gloom HQ. Instead it was a glossy new place with exposed brick and thumping bass music. Dan would’ve left, but he saw the unmistakable faces of two speechwriters at a table to the right. 

Jon knew that Dan and Sarah were having rough times, but Dan hadn’t told him she left. Lovett didn’t know either. Dan just hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything. He also specifically avoided thinking about it at all times, only offering some info to Alyssa after she caught him asleep at his desk when she came into the office. Dan had slept there all night.

Lovett and Jon seemed very happy, and Dan didn’t want to spoil their night. He was about to pretend he didn’t see them when Lovett shouted, “Is that Dan? Hey, it’s Dan!”

Dan allowed himself to be manhandled into a chair next to Lovett, across from Jon. Cody was there too, along with someone Dan recognized but didn’t remember who they were. 

“Dan, you look like you could use a drink,” Lovett said, still shouting.

Dan folded his hands together on the edge of the table. “That’s... very accurate.”

Lovett’s shouting got the attention of a bartender. Lovett also ordered a drink for Dan, one that, according to him, would help with his “glum Eeyore face.”

Something about being called out on his sadness made Dan even sadder. If someone could visibly see that Dan was glum, that means he wasn’t doing as good a job at hiding as he thought.

He especially didn’t feel like he was hiding under Jon’s curious stare across the table from him. 

“Rough day?” Jon asked. This was when his hair started to grow back, short and styled straight up on the top of his head. 

“Yeah, I —” Dan sighed. “Look, I don’t want to bring you guys down —”

Lovett put a reassuring hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. Tommy will be here soon and he will certainly be looking like a forlorn orphan after the day he’s had.”

Dan recalled that Tommy and the whole NSC staff was in the Sit Room for extended periods of time on and off throughout the day. It was either a sign of international affairs going very good or very bad. 

“Okay,” Dan cracked a smile, mostly at Lovett’s description of Tommy. It’s always a different epithet. 

“At least it’s the weekend!” Jon said. “I am excited to do nothing.”

“You’re such a liar,” Cody chimed in from beside Jon. “You’ll be working on those healthcare speeches and getting laid.”

“Probably at the same time,” Lovett smirked. 

Rolling his eyes, Jon sighed. “Sometimes it feels like you guys don’t know me at all.”

“The truth will set you free, buddy. Look within yourself. That’s what my therapist taught me this week,” Cody gestured with his beer bottle. 

“Aw, I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Jon made a funny face.

“Yeah, I am,” Cody said. “‘Cause I’ve gotta work with you everyday.”

Dan laughed for real at that. Jon rolled his eyes again but laughed, tongue poking through his teeth. Once he stopped, he looked at Dan, head tilted.

“I hope we’re not too annoying, Dan.”

“No, this is… this is nice,” Dan said as the bartender came over and dropped off his drink. There was a beat of silence, or possibly more, and Dan decided to fill it. “You know, I almost pretended I didn’t hear Lovett shouting.”

“And sat at the bar with strangers?” Jon said, scandalized.

Lovett added, “Or even worse, Hill interns?” 

Dan smirked. He noticed how flushed Jon was, and wondered how much he’d had to drink. “Sometimes people want to talk to strangers in bars. It’s actually one of their purposes.”

“Is that what you wanted?” Jon spoke casually, gestured to Lovett as he continued, “Was it just a fear of that one that made you come over here?”

Lovett put his hand on Dan’s shoulder again. “Oh my god, Dan, I hope you’re not actually afraid of me.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Dan talked them both down. He told them about how he didn’t intend to meet with anyone or befriend anyone new. He did mention that he was originally going to go to the dive bar Alyssa recommended, but got the addresses confused. 

Jon seemed to put two and two together. Dan, alone, going to a bar. What he knew about the state of Dan’s marriage. Dan could see it on his face, the light bulb going off. He was always very expressive, unable to hide what he was feeling. They had that in common.

“What’s Sarah up to tonight?” Jon asked.

Dan took a big sigh and a sip of his drink before he said it out loud, before saying it out loud made it real. “Sarah left me.”

Jon’s eyes went wide, Cody and Lovett ducked their heads. They looked really sad. Lovett put his chin in his hand on the table. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jon said.

“It is what it is,” Dan said.

“No, it’s… it’s awful.”

Dan looked at Jon, but not at his eyes.

“I’m okay, Jon,” he studied the collar of Jon’s shirt. A white button down. He must not have changed after work. “Neither of us were happy.”

Dan made eye contact with him then. He’ll never forget what he looked like. Jon’s eyebrows were raised, concerned, more concerned and thoughtful than he’d ever seen him.“That why you slept in your office Tuesday night?” 

Dan huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Jeez, word travels fast around here.”

“I saw you.”

“Huh?”

“I walk past your office every day, Dan. I saw you.”

Jon didn’t offer anything else. Dan just stared at him, wondering why he was so upset, wondering why he kept Jon in the dark about everything. Beside them, Cody and Lovett awkwardly stood up, knowing their place. Knowing that this wasn’t their place.

After they left, Jon and Dan sat in silence for a while, the music of the bar filling the space. Two silent, sad people in the middle of happy, laughing partiers.

“I’m calling a cab,” Dan announced.

“I’ll share with you,” Jon said. 

In the cab, Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. “This was a bad week. I’m sorry.”

“You can...I mean I know you can’t take time off, but,” Jon murmured, head turned towards the window at first. Eventually he turned so Dan could hear him better. “There’s plenty of people who can help you.”

“Help how?”

“I don’t know,” Jon shrugs. “Just telling people things works sometimes.”

Dan thought about how he didn’t tell anyone Sarah left until two days after it happened. And how he didn’t tell anyone they’d been having problems until it was too late. And he thought about how, in the past couple of years, Jon talked to Dan about a lot of stuff in his life -- relationships, family issues. They would start out talking about work but end up talking about more personal matters, Jon sat on the heating register in his office as usual. Dan knew so much about him. Jon started to feel secure telling him things back then, like how his recent girlfriends always seemed to only want to use him as arm candy at the fancy DC parties.

 _Telling people things works._ Jon must have been speaking from experience.

And so the following Monday morning, Dan knocked on Jon’s office door with bagels and coffee.

If Dan hadn’t come to this very bar in Georgetown, that wouldn’t have happened. If Dan hadn’t decided to come over to Jon’s table, who knows how many times he would’ve slept at the office. Who knows how many nights he would’ve drank alone.

Dan decides to bring it up. He can’t not bring it up. 

“Hey, Jon, do you remember…” 

Jon crosses his arms over the table, leans forward, and listens.

~

Day two of tour is a travel day. Dan is thankful for the opportunity to sleep in. They head to the airport, grab breakfast on the go, and wait around some more before their flight at eleven. They’re all pretty silent, pretty sleepy. Having downtime is important so that they don’t get prematurely sick of each other and are still able to work with each other when the time comes. At least that’s how Dan understands it.

Just before the plane takes off, Lovett nudges Dan on the shoulder.

“Hey, Jon wants to switch seats with me,” Lovett says. 

Dan smiles. “Okay.”

Lovett gets up and goes to a row on the other side of the plane a few rows up. Dan catches Jon walking away at the same time Lovett is sitting down. 

“Hey,” Jon says as he takes the outside seat next to Dan, who has the misfortune of the middle seat. Luckily the person with the window seat is propping up a pillow and seemingly preparing to sleep.

“Hey.” 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Lovett just _had_ to sit next to Tommy.”

“Since when?” Dan laughs under his breath.

“I don’t know, he said he had important matters to discuss with him,” Jon uses air quotes around the words _important matters_.

“Oh jeez,” Dan says. He can just barely see the tops of Lovett and Tommy’s heads in the distance.

“I know,” Jon sighs, puts his elbow on the armrest in between him and Dan. At that moment, Dan remembers how anxious Jon gets on planes. He seems pretty relaxed right now, slouched shoulders and flushed cheeks. He must’ve taken something earlier.

“They’re probably just arguing about something,” Jon shrugs, and Dan notices his collarbones under his thin shirt.

“Scheming to leave Crooked and go off on their own,” Dan posits.

Jon cringes at the idea, even though Dan knows that he knows it was a joke. Dan watches out of the corner of his eye as the horror on his face is replaced with something softer.

“It would just be us then. Could you still handle that?” 

“We did it once.”

“I know, but,” Jon looks at the ceiling. “Things are different now.”

“Not that different,” Dan murmurs.

“Could you still handle me?”

Dan can feel his face go red and wonders if Jon notices. Surely. He’s looking right at him. 

Dan speaks softly because Jon is really close, closer than Dan thought at first. Dan puts his elbow on the armrest right next to Jon’s. He’s feeling bold. “Jon, I handled you every day for a whole campaign cycle and seventy-five-percent of a presidency.” 

Jon purses his lips, clearly fighting back a smile. Blushing even harder. 

Not knowing what else to say, Dan gazes at Jon for awhile, lets himself be looked at. The pilot’s voice over the loudspeaker ends the moment.

~

Dan has a journal that resides in the first drawer of his home office desk. It’s been in commission since his previous one became full around the same time Trump was elected. When Dan reached the last page of his previous journal, he’d written about his complicated feelings regarding optimism and how they’d changed over time.

Too serendipitous it was to literally start the new journal, this one navy blue and well-bound, on the day when the course of history turned a new chapter, when everyone personally turned a new chapter but was too shocked to write. Okay, _serendipity_ is not the right word, Dan thinks. What’s the word for perfect synchronicity of the shittiest vibes imaginable?

He wishes he brought his journal on this trip. It’s raining in Manhattan and Jon is sitting beside him in their little tour van, staring out the window at the grey day, at the crowds of people with multicolored umbrellas. Jon moves his leg and his knee bumps against Dan’s. 

Dan’s thoughts are too all over the place to type out on his phone, too private. The notes app on his iPhone is for stuff like grocery lists and links to articles he wants to save, not wondering about what Jon Favreau is thinking at this very moment.

Writing might help him sort out everything that’s happened on this tour so far. If he did have his journal, Dan would be scribbling down a bulleted list of things he’s confused about yet wants to remember:

• The way Jon has been at his side this entire time for the past day or so. Joined at the hip. (Well, touching arms on the plane.) Jon’s been at his side so much, Dan is starting to think it might not be coincidence.

• The way Jon looked up at him and said, _Could you still handle me?_ in that soft voice. Dan is starting to think it was more sincere than joking. Or maybe he’s just replaying it in his mind too much, making something out of nothing.

They’re speaking at a college in forty-five minutes. Dan needs to get himself together.

~

“Pod Save America is brought to you by Stitchfix...”

Dan watches Jon talk into the microphone later that evening, sitting diagonal from him in the hotel meeting room. Tanya is on the third sectional couch, where Lovett and Tommy are also lying back, relaxed. Dan thinks about how this ad is going to go into the pod and how you’d never know those two were practically cuddling if you listened to it. 

“I got this shirt from Stitchfix,” Lovett says as he slouches down some more, feet on the coffee table. 

“It’s nice,” Tommy copies him, puts his feet up on the table. 

“It was the only item in the box I kept!” Lovett yells. “But that’s okay, it’s still a good deal.”

Jon and Dan exchange a look. Dan smiles. He really likes being part of the ads. He doesn’t try to take away too much from them, chimes in just enough to add his own voice to the Lovett-Jon-Tommy dynamic.

Truthfully, Dan doesn’t know what to say most of the time, but he enjoys seeing what the process of recording ads is actually like. The last tour he went on, he and Jon had to share a microphone. They ended up squished together on a loveseat in Seattle with Jon holding out the mic for him, pressuring him to say something when he thought he should. Dan would wave him off sometimes, and Jon would giggle and then talk about how they’d have to cut out that silence while giggling some more. 

Jon forces Dan out of his daydream. 

“Do you wanna read this one with me, Dan?” Jon has his iPad balanced on his lap, sitting on the edge of his seat. 

“Uh,” Dan tries to get his brain to work. “Sure?”

“I just, you know, it’s boring when it’s just one person.”

“But what about —” 

Dan looks over to where Lovett and Tommy were and sees they’re not there anymore. He didn’t even notice them leave. How could he not notice them leave — Lovett, known for being loud, and Tommy, known for being rambunctious when in the presence of Lovett. Dan shakes his head and looks back to Jon in time to see him scoot over on the couch he’s sitting on, and pat the space next to him with a gentle smile on his face.

Dan takes the seat he’s being offered. Jon angles his body towards him so he can read off his iPad, too. 

“Pod Save America is also brought to you by the Cash app,” Jon says. “Lovett and Tommy aren’t with me right now, but Dan is!”

“Hi, Jon.”

“Dan, I hope you use the Cash app and not one of the other ones.”

“Obviously…”

The ad read goes smooth — easy back and forth like the Thursday pod, but more fun because they don’t have to talk about the fragile state of the republic. Once they’ve neared the end, Dan’s put his feet up on the table and one arm on the back of the couch behind Jon. 

Dan ends with a wisecrack about being better on the ads than Lovett that makes Jon giggle and lean into him. His shoulder presses against Dan’s shoulder. 

As Tanya takes the microphones from them and packs the sound equipment up, Dan says, “Hopefully I wasn’t too… stale.”

Jon scoffs, “You were great.”

“How do you do it?” Dan asks before his brain can tell his mouth not to, to keep it to himself, to not be so nosy. 

But Jon looks at Dan and wants to know, specifically, what Dan is talking about. “Hmm?”

“How do you,” Dan waves his hands, not knowing how to phrase what he means. A career communications professional and he doesn’t know what to say. “How do you talk like that?”

“I don’t know, you just slip into podcast mode--”

“It’s all the time,” Dan interrupts him. “At least, in my experience.”

Jon sits up straight, eyebrows furrowed. He puts his iPad on the coffee table and then returns his hands to his lap, folded together. “Okay,” he laughs, trying to diffuse any potential awkwardness. 

Dan doesn’t move, looks at Jon’s curious face in the low-lit room. 

“You are so charming all the time.”

Jon smiles at him slowly, one corner of his mouth turning up more than the other. He ducks his head. “Um, thanks.”

“Sorry,” Dan nervously itches the back of his neck. He feels warm all over. 

Jon leans back until he’s resting his head on Dan’s arm, still on the back of the couch. He presses his knee into Dan’s, like he did in the car earlier, but this time it doesn’t go away after a second.

“I missed you a lot, Dan.”

Dan moves his hand down so it’s on Jon’s shoulder, touching the soft hoodie he’s wearing, feeling the warmth of him. “I missed you, too.”

They’re alone in the room. Dan didn’t notice when Tanya left, just like how he didn’t notice Lovett and Tommy leave. Dan neither knows what time it is nor feels any desire to do anything except sit with Jon some more. 

Jon moves closer, curls into Dan and rests his head on his shoulder. Dan tightens his arm around him. He hears city traffic, the thrum of the hotel air conditioning, and, most prominently, the sound of Jon’s breathing. 

“Sometimes I wish you lived in LA,” Jon murmurs.

“Sometimes I wish I did too.”

They end up staying like that until their phones light up at the same time with an all-caps message from Travis:

_WHERE ARE YOU GUYS_  
_TOMMY IS SINGING KARAOKE IN THE HOTEL BAR_  
_YOU GOTTA GET DOWN HERE_

****

Looking at his phone, Dan says, “Let’s hope they’re not drinking too much.”

“Probably not, honestly,” Jon shrugs. “Tommy just likes having an excuse to sing.”

Jon pushes his head back into Dan’s shoulder one final time before sitting up. Dan feels mournful at losing the touch as he watches his own hand fall from Jon’s shoulder. 

They go downstairs, try and find where the hotel bar is. Jon hears the music before Dan does and leads the way, hand gripping Dan’s wrist. They enter an arched doorway into the blue-lighted bar, get closer to where all the action is happening. Dan has only heard Tommy sing a few times, but the voice is unmistakably his:

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore_  
_I've forgotten what I started fighting for_  
_It's time to bring this ship into the shore_  
_And throw away the oars, forever_  


Tommy is singing a stripped down version of an REO Speedwagon song. He’s pointing at someone, his blonde hair shiny under the overhead lighting. 

“He’s good,” Dan says of Tommy. He looks down and sees Jon’s hand still curled around his wrist.

“Very,” Jon agrees.

~

Dan wakes up the next morning at 7:00 am on the dot. He still feels liquid from last night, like all his sense has been sucked out and replaced with images of Jon’s soulful eyes looking at him while Tommy sang “Can’t Fight this Feeling.” What even is his life?

The first thing he does when he gets out of bed is text Alyssa.

_Consider the following text to be sent with high importance_  
_I NEED ADVICE!_  


They’re trying out a Sunday matinee live show, which means they only have time to eat breakfast before going to the theater. Dan showers and gets ready on autopilot. He’s equal parts thankful and terrified when he sees Alyssa messaged him back:

_go ahead_  
_is this about the show today?_  
_i’m going by the way :)_  


Dan bends down and twists the stiff white hotel towel so it stays on top of his head as he texts Alyssa back. He has a fleeting, mournful thought of the days when he actually had a substantial amount of hair.

_Not about the show but show-adjacent. It’s about Favreau_  
_And I figured you were_  


Dan puts his phone down and so he can put his pants on. He pushes back the thick curtain of the hotel room window to check the weather. It’s still grey and cloudy in Manhattan.

His phone buzzes.

_oh no. what did our favs do now_  


Typing with one hand, Dan uses his other hand to take the towel off his head. He runs his hand over his hair. Completely dry.

_I cannot stop thinking about him_  
_Something about this tour. idk. We’ve been inseparable_  


Dan steps away from his phone one final time to put his sweater on. He then brushes his teeth, turns out the bathroom light and packs his stuff up. He checks in with the tour Slack channel to make sure he didn’t miss anything. 

He reads Alyssa’s prompt reply as he waits for the elevator in the hallway, staring at the funky-patterned carpet.

_awww!_  
_wait._  
_thinking about him how? are you messing with me pfeiffer_  


Dan sighs. She’s really going to make him say it, isn’t she?

The elevator opens with a ding and steps in. He hits the button for the ground floor and steps to the back, looking at his phone. The door is about to close when he hears quick footsteps and someone saying, “Can you hold the elevator?”

Dan reaches out to hold the elevator and comes face-to-face with Jon, who lets out a deep breath and smiles. 

“Oh hey, Dan,” he says. “Perfect timing.”

“Yeah,” is all Dan thinks to say. He steps back into the corner where he was. Jon takes the other corner. 

Dan’s thumbs hover over his iPhone keyboard. He looks over at Jon, who’s looking down at his phone, perfect as perfect can be in a tight black henley, bag over his shoulder and raincoat over his arm.

 _Thinking about him in romantic ways,_ Dan tells Alyssa.

Dan sets his phone to do not disturb and then puts it in his pocket. He needs to focus on being a normal, even-keeled person when the whole team goes out for breakfast. 

When he and Jon join the group already in the lobby, Dan starts to ask who they’re waiting on but cuts himself off as soon as he notices the absence of Elijah and Travis. 

“We are waiting on the always punctual content producers,” Tommy says, voice thick with sarcasm.

“That would be a sick band name,” Tanya laughs. She and Juliet are squeezed into a chair together, while Lovett and Tommy occupy a couch. 

There’s a loud echo of footsteps and a booming voice that definitely belongs to Travis. “We’re here, we’re here! And I don’t want any comments about it!”

 

According to the waitress at the restaurant, they are lucky because they got in before the “brunch rush.” They’ve all been waiting a very long time for their food, so Dan doesn’t even want to know what it would be like if they actually got brunch. Note that would go in his journal if he had it: Don’t go to Sunday brunch in Manhattan. Unless you have a reservation. Even then, maybe just skip it, sleep in, and eat a protein bar instead.

But they couldn’t sleep in today and Dan needs more sustenance than a PowerBar to do a successful, high-energy live podcast. 

Dan is sitting across from Jon, because of course he is. He avoids Jon’s gaze as he finally looks to see if Alyssa replied to him. Something about talking about Jon when he’s _right there_ feels a little too close for comfort, makes his heart beat all fast.

_oh my god howard daniel! SHUT UP!_  
_this is so CUTE HOLY FUCK_  
_have you thought about this before_  
_or have you been retrospectively looking back on ur life_  
_does he know_  
_i’m cooking so i’ll shut up now and give u time to speak_  


Dan feels Jon’s eyes on him as he types,

_Yes I have been doing some retrospection. But a lot of it has happened this tour. We half-cuddled last night_  


The message is immediately ‘read’ and the speech bubble that shows Alyssa is typing shows up.

_excuse me what is a “half-cuddle”????_  
_howard daniel. do i have to come over there early_  
_bc i will_  


Dan cracks a smile. He loves her so much.

_Do you know how to send anything but a quintuple text?_  


_WHAT_  
_IS_  
_A_  
_HALF_  
_CUDDLE???_  


 

The whole table’s food comes shortly after Dan receives this message. He hates to do it, but he leaves Alyssa on read. In between bites the Crooked team talk about the night before and the show in a few hours. As per usual, big, bad news had broke over the weekend: The Worst-Person-President being racist, the incompetent fuckstick House Majority Leader being incompetent, and so much injustice it’s revolting.

Dan remembers to act like a normal person a little too late. He doesn’t talk more than he has to. And about halfway through their meal, Jon starts to avoid looking at Dan. As soon as Dan realizes what’s happening, he has so much regret and feels awful. The restaurant is also too noisy. Soon, he’s plain overwhelmed. Usually he can deal with noise and crowds despite being an introvert, but this is one of those times where it’s too much.

~

The interim between leaving breakfast and going to the theater is too long. Once they’re on stage rehearsing, Dan goes into show mode, but only speaks when prompted. He doesn’t take part in the light-hearted banter. It’s easier because he’s in the last seat, furthest away from Jon. But it’s also not easy because it’s hard not to look at him. But he also can’t look at him for long because his chest will ache. Nothing makes any sense. He needs to text Alyssa back.

Dan is soon free to sit in the green room with Lovett and Tommy, Elijah and Travis. He doesn’t know where Tanya, Juliet, or Jon are. 

Dan texts Alyssa:

_Jon rested his head on my shoulder and I put my arm around him. We were alone. That was the half cuddle_  


_dan. i am going to scream in this uber_

_I don’t want to be weird around him but that’s making things weird_  
_Too forward, I should say. There’s no way he likes me like that. It’s inappropriate_  


This backstage room is smaller than the one in DC, and Dan likes the feeling of quiet it gives him. Lovett and Tommy are relaxing, still joined at the hip. Dan feels a little silly all of a sudden for how long it took for him to realize that there’s definitely something going on with those two.

For all the talking they’ve done on this trip, for all the talking they all do all the time, there is a lot of stuff that doesn’t get talked about. 

Dan tries to relax, pushing back into the plush couch while he waits for Alyssa’s response.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two separated this whole tour,” Dan says casually to Lovett and Tommy. 

Lovett slaps Tommy on the chest. “I told you we were being obvious!”

Tommy mouths the word “ow” and rubs his palm over where Lovett hit him, his eyebrows knitting together. “Actually, I think I told you, ‘if we keep this up they’re eventually going to say something.’”

Turning to look at Dan, Lovett places his palm on Tommy’s chest, replacing Tommy’s hand and leaning into him. “Tommy sang a song for me last night and it was very romantic.”

“Oh shit,” Dan says. “That was -- you sang -- for him?”

Tommy blushes, pleasantly embarrassed. “You saw?”

“Yeah, me and Jon showed up like halfway through,” Dan laughs softly under his breath. 

“Speaking of you and Jon,” Lovett says, a smug look developing on his face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you two separated this whole tour. ‘Til now.”

Dan’s phone buzzes. Perfect timing.

Alyssa’s text reads,

_you’re being so stupid ohmygod_ _you know jon is so, so fond of you._

Dan excuses himself from the room, not wanting to explain himself to Lovett and Tommy, who have somehow gotten together in a way that works for them. Or not, maybe they’re just flirting for no reason. Dan isn’t good at this sort of thing, as evidenced by the sudden incalculable awkwardness between him and Jon and the fact that he’s been single for a long time now. 

He reads Alyssa’s text again: 

_you know jon is so, so fond of you._  


Leaning against the dark green colored wall in the hallway, Dan wonders if he does actually know that. What’s the line between Jon just being Jon, Jon just being Dan’s friend, just being Dan’s trusty co-host and confidant? Dan doesn’t know. He has blurted out so many truths to Jon over the past two days. He’s told Jon he’s ceaselessly charming, that he’s amusing. 

And Jon has been attached to Dan ever since he hugged him in the airport, has slid right next to Dan and given him the utmost attention. And, God, last night; last night when Jon beckoned Dan to come sit next to him, how he told him he missed him and rested his head on Dan’s shoulder, leaving Dan to count the grey streaks in his hair that showed the passage of all the years they’ve known each other. How he held his wrist tightly for so long Dan’s skin felt singed afterwards. 

They have done one live show and one speaking engagement but Dan can barely remember them. He’s been consumed, for two whole days and then some, with Jon’s voice and hands and smile. Dan has been preoccupied with Jon’s laugh and how, by some miracle, it only seems like Jon has eyes for him.

Fuck, Dan is so stunted. 

He takes a deep breath and goes to the backstage area to find Jon. Jon is standing with his arms crossed, talking to Tanya and Travis and their guest for tonight, a thirty-something professor running for office.

“Hey,” Dan stands next to Jon. “Can -- Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Jon looks surprised but nonetheless agrees. “Yeah, sure.”

They retrace Dan’s steps, walking around backstage until they get to the hallway Dan was just in. Dan is rehearsing what he’s going to say when Jon speaks up first.

“God, I have been just,” Jon shakes his head and crosses his arms, shoulders hunched. “So fucking clingy with you, Dan, I’m sorry.”

“What, no no no --”

“I just, I don’t even think about it, I just missed you a lot,” Jon rambles. “But I’ll stop being weird.”

“Jon,” Dan stops walking and steps in front of Jon. “Stop.”

Jon’s staring at Dan with wide glassy brown eyes, looking like someone kicked his dog. 

“No, that’s not...” Dan clenches his fists, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Jon, I have loved nothing more than being clingy with you these past couple days.”

Jon’s face softens. “Really?” 

“I barely slept last night. I just kept thinking about that ad read,” Dan confesses. He watches Jon’s shoulders relax.

“I keep thinking about it too,” Jon says quietly.

Dan steps forward towards Jon and Jon steps backward until he’s pressed against the wall, Dan staring down at him. Dan can barely see Jon’s face in the low-lit hallway but he’s beautiful, so beautiful. Jon reaches out, shakily puts his hands on Dan’s hips. 

“I had so many opportunities to kiss you and I didn’t take any of them,” Dan murmurs. 

Jon looks down at Dan’s lips. “You can kiss me now.”

Dan feels liquid again, like he’s not even of this earth as he reaches up and caresses the side of Jon’s face. He closes his eyes and leans down, feeling Jon’s soft breath against his mouth, ever-so-gently nudges their noses together -- 

“Hey!!!” someone shouts, and they step away from each other as though they’d been shocked. 

It’s Tanya who’s slowing her jog. She’s either oblivious to what she interrupted or has chosen to pretend she didn’t see it. “I’ve been looking for you guys. We need to take some pictures.”

Dan turns back to Jon. In a few seconds he’s able to take all of him in -- the way he’s leaning against the wall, palms flat against it, head tilted back, with the most severe pout on his face Dan has ever seen. Dan gazes into his eyes, his wordless way of telling him, _later._

~

By some fucking miracle, Dan makes it through the show without slipping up. He’s not only performing with the knowledge that he’s most certainly going to kiss Jon afterwards, but he’s also performing under Jon’s watchful eye, his salacious way of sitting in the chair and asking Dan questions. It’s as if Jon took his usual, fond way of interacting with Dan and stepped it up a thousand notches to where _fond_ turned into _want_. Dan did his best to let Jon know he was into it. The best moment was when Dan winked at him after one of his jokes landed, and he got to see Jon duck his head and flush in front of everyone.

It was only around 6:00 pm when the show finished, which was great for boarding an evening flight, but not great for Dan’s need to kiss Jon. Dan bounces his knee on the way to the airport, sitting in the front of the van, as he thinks about how close they were. 

Their last stop on the tour -- which has been short yet felt so, so long -- is Portland, Maine. Dan and Jon’s seats on the plane weren’t next to each other. None of them were. But they have a short layover in Boston. Dan gets some coffee because he wants to stay up, which doesn’t make sense to the rest of the group. At least that’s what Dan guesses given their odd looks his way.

“Can I have some of that?” Jon speaks softly, knee touching Dan’s while they wait for their flight to be called.

“Go ahead,” Dan smirks and hands the paper cup to him, their fingers brushing. Jon smirks too, holds eye contact with Dan as he drinks his coffee.

Dan smiles and looks at Jon’s parted mouth as he takes the coffee back. He takes a long sip just like Jon did, thinking about how his mouth was just there too, how that will have to hold them over for awhile.

Everyone is quiet while they wait. Dan wants to tell Jon something -- something he just remembered -- but doesn’t want to break the peaceful silence. So he pulls out his phone and texts him.

_I wrote some things for you last night. When I couldn’t sleep_  


Jon avoids his eyes as he types out his reply.

_Oh. Like what?_

Dan quickly replies,  
_Things I like about you._  
_I want to share them with you when we land._  


Jon sends him the emoji that’s a face with its mouth open in surprise.

They glance at each other but stop texting after that, silently, mutually agreeing to wait.

A few minutes later, Dan’s phone lights up. It’s Alyssa this time.

  
_dandandandandanDAN_ _so what is the status on the favreau situation??_  


Dan thinks about what to reveal and what not to. He and Alyssa talk about most everything, and have for a long time. She’d be thrilled at the reality of “the Favreau situation.” He hopes she’s sitting down.

_We were about to kiss but got interrupted_  


_ho-ly shit dude_  
_get itttttt_  


Dan smiles and shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

~

Another night, another hotel room. Only this time, Jon and Dan are in the same one. It’s frigid-cold in the room, but Dan doesn’t turn off the AC. They both set their bags on the floor in front of the TV and take turns using the bathroom, not saying much. All that anticipation and they’re still left skirting around each other, giddy and overwhelmed.

Dan opens his duffle bag and finds the pocket where he put the notes he wrote last night. He wrote them on the hotel notepad, with the Starwood Hotels logo on it. He used half of the notepad, but stuffed the whole thing and the pen in his bag. Just so he’d have it.

He sits down beside Jon on the edge of the bed and hands Jon the small, rectangular papers for him to read.

Jon smiles at Dan closed-mouthed and then looks down to read, blushing already.

First note, which Dan wrote while recalling their hug in the airport:

_I knew I missed you but I wasn’t prepared for how much I missed the way you look at me._  


Jon flips to the second one when he’s done reading, as if he’s studying notecards for a speech:

_Do you remember when you got me to open up to you after my divorce? I never thanked you for that. How can I thank you in a way that feels enough_  


Third one:

_The cliches are true: sometimes you are the only person in the room I see. Or, in the car, like yesterday when you were looking out at the rain pondering something. Did you brush your knee against mine on purpose? I want to live in that moment for a little while longer._  


Jon’s long fingers seem to shake a little when he turns to the fourth and final one:

_To answer your question from the flight— yes, I think I can handle you, but I might need to hold you again to make sure._  


 

Once Jon is finished reading, he lets his hands fall into his lap and looks over at Dan, his face awestruck. Dan watches him bite his lip and smile with his eyes and, just like that, he feels like he did earlier when they were about to kiss the first time. He reaches out and cradles Jon’s face in his hand, palm along his jawline. His skin is warm, adorably flushed, with just a hint of stubble starting to grow in. And just like earlier, Jon’s eyes glance down at Dan’s lips and that’s all Dan needs to move forward, close the distance between them once and for all. 

It takes a moment for Jon to get over the shock, Dan can tell, because he’s frozen for a few seconds and then, suddenly, he relaxes. He carefully sets Dan’s notes off to the side, on the bedside table, and then reaches up with both hands to hold Dan’s face as he kisses him back. Jon’s lips are soft and Dan can practically feel all the tension they’ve built over the past few days morph into unfettered want. 

They’re both leaning over a considerable space between them until Jon decides to close it. Still holding Dan’s face, he stands and pivots so he can straddle Dan’s lap, placing one knee down at a time. Dan has his moment of being frozen at this point, taken aback by the reality of being able to wrap his arms around Jon and pull him close. When Dan finally does, his hands splayed across Jon’s back, Jon melts into him and loops his arms around Dan’s neck. 

Dan moves his hands up Jon’s back, pressing his fingertips over his soft shirt. Dan never quite realized how lanky Jon is, never realized he’d be able to touch so much of him like this. Jon moans and opens his mouth more and Dan shudders. He moves his hands to Jon’s waist in an attempt to pull him forward.

The kiss falters at that point, both of them breathing hard. Dan presses his forehead against Jon’s and murmurs, “Fuck, Jon.”

“Mmm,” Jon hums softly under his breath. His eyelids flutter open. “Do - do you wanna lay down?”

Dan pauses for another second in order to take everything in. Feeling Jon beneath his hands, he tightens his grip on Jon’s hips and brings him down onto the bed on his back. Dan hears Jon let out a gasp as he complies with Dan’s manhandling, helps out a bit by getting comfortable on a pillow. When Dan moves to hover over Jon, his hands on either side of him, he’s met with beautiful, curious brown eyes blinking up at him. 

“Dan?”

Dan studies Jon again, thinks it’s really endearing how he has his arms bent, palms facing up, how his chest moves because he’s breathing heavy. Jon reaches up with careful hands and pulls Dan in for another kiss. It’s effective in shutting off Dan’s brain — he’s reminded that the only thing he has to think about in this moment is kiss Jon back. Jon moves one hand to the back of Dan’s head, while Dan trails his fingertips down Jon’s neck. His skin is soft and warm, almost delicate. Dan disconnects his lips with Jon’s and moves downward, kisses his stubbly jaw before mouthing at his neck, kissing him just like the California sun has.

Sighing, Jon runs his hands over Dan’s short, buzzed hair again and again, holding him close. Dan doesn’t have any hangups about leaving marks on Jon -- he wants him to remember this for awhile -- so he nibbles at his smooth skin, works on sucking a bruise into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Jon’s moans only encourage Dan, and so he moves lower. Dan has to push Jon’s henley aside by the collar, but soon decides to reach up with his right hand and unbutton it the whole way. Dan thinks about how Jon usually wears these kind of shirts mostly unbuttoned, how every time Dan sees him in them he becomes fixated on his chest, his collarbones.

Dan kisses Jon’s collarbone and listens to his soft sighs. Dan lets his lips travel to the center of Jon’s chest, as far down as he can get with his shirt in the way. Jon smells good and clean despite traveling so much the past few days. Dan shivers and feels goosebumps forming on his own arms; whether its from the air conditioning in the room or from Jon, he doesn’t know. He exhales and rests his forehead on Jon’s chest, feels Jon’s heartbeat.

Jon lets a few moments of silence linger before he says anything. 

“Dan? You okay?” he murmurs, low and throaty.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles into Jon’s chest. He presses another kiss to his bare skin before looking up at him again. “You’re just so beautiful.”

Throwing his arm over his eyes, Jon sighs and lets out a light laugh. “Dan.”

Jon reaches for Dan’s face again after that and Dan scrambles back up to kiss him, sliding his tongue into Jon’s mouth. Jon pulls away almost too quick and reaches for the hem of Dan’s shirt. “You’re beautiful, too. I wanna see you.”

Blushing and averting his eyes, Dan lets Jon slide his t-shirt up his chest. Dan has to sit back in Jon’s lap so he can lift his arms up while Jon lifts his shirt over his head. He feels super exposed, the cold air conditioning hitting his bare chest, but the reverent way Jon’s looking at him makes him warm up again in an instant. Jon tosses Dan’s shirt to the side and Dan repays him by finally lifting Jon’s henley up and off, Jon sitting up. 

Dan doesn’t know, doesn’t care where he throws Jon’s shirt to. Once his hands are free he gets his hands on Jon’s hips and pushes him back down, more forceful than he’s touched him yet.

“I’ve thought about tearing that off you for a long time now,” he admits.

Dan feels Jon’s hands on his chest then, fingertips running through the hair on his stomach. Jon spreads his legs underneath Dan, one knee hitching up slightly and falling to the side in a way that makes his jeans go taut at the thighs.

“What else have you thought about doing to me,” Jon murmurs, a question without inflection. 

_Good question,_ Dan thinks. He’s had thoughts before -- intrusive and fleeting -- about touching Jon, about making him sigh and shiver, about biting his smooth skin. Dan has sat in his office at home and talked on the phone with Jon about this horrible news or that, all while thinking about what Jon would look like on his knees for Dan, or what it would be like to feel his long legs tighten around his waist as Dan fucks him --

Dan undoes Jon’s belt, not really looking up at him; he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, still not really looking at him. Jon lifts his hips so Dan can wrangle his pants and underwear down together. Dan has wanted to take things slow, but he’s feeling impatient. He remembers their almost-kiss, before they got interrupted backstage, when Jon leaned against the wall and stared at Dan with a fervor in his eyes Dan had never seen before. Jon _wants_ him, really really wants him, and Dan suddenly feels possessed as he puts his palm on Jon’s smooth, bare thigh. 

Dan looks up at Jon as he slinks down the bed. He focuses on Jon’s half-hard cock, slightly curved and resting against his belly, as perfect as he is. Dan takes it in his other hand. The noise Jon makes -- a loud, desperate groan -- makes Dan moan back, heat coursing through him.

Dan leans down the rest of the way so he can get his mouth on Jon’s inner thigh. He sinks his teeth into his skin just a bit before pulling away.

“I’ve thought about doing so many things to you, Jon,” Dan says.

~

When Dan opens his eyes the next morning, he is momentarily confused. Lying on his back, he feels something touching his chest hair. As he fully regains consciousness he realizes those are Jon’s fingers, fondly remembers that the body curled into his side is Jon.

“G’morning,” Jon mumbles, his mouth against Dan’s bare shoulder.

“Morning,” Dan mumbles back. 

Jon moves to nuzzle his face into Dan’s neck, press his naked body fully against his. “So cold in here. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

Smiling, Dan extracts his arm from his side and wraps it around Jon’s shoulders. He holds him close under the comforter. With his other arm, Dan reaches over and gets his and Jon’s phones from the bedside table. 

Dan scrolls through the Washington Post app for a bit; he can see Jon scrolling through Twitter out of the corner of his eye. Jon scoots down after a few moments so he can use Dan’s chest as a pillow. 

“Ready for the last live pod for a month or so?” Jon asks, voice gravelly and still mumbly from sleep. 

“No,” Dan replies. “Can’t think. You sucked out all my brains through my dick last night.”

“Ew,” Jon intones dramatically before he laughs under his breath, “No, I know what you mean.”

Dan rolls his eyes and sets his phone aside so he can look at Jon. Jon must feel his eyes on him, because he does the same, grinning at him with that gap-toothed smile. Once he pushes himself up to see Dan better, Dan tells him, “You’re really good at that, by the way.”

Jon kisses Dan nice and firm, lips slightly parted. 

“That too,” Dan says after he pulls away.

Dan lets Jon shower first after that, watching him as he climbs out of bed and walks the short distance to the bathroom, still fully naked. He doesn’t bother to shut the bathroom door, and a few minutes into his shower Dan hears him shouting.

“Did you see that horrible attack ad they aired about Pelosi in that Pennsylvania house district?”

Feeling weird about still being naked, Dan sits on the edge of the bed and puts his boxers back on. He then moves to sit at the foot of the bed so that Jon can hear him talk. “Yeah. It’s disgusting and tired.”

“They’re so out of ideas.”

“We gonna talk about it tonight?”

“I don’t know, probably only if we can work it into a larger conversation. Also, I’m a little mad that that guest bailed on us so late.”

“That was kind of shitty.”

“It was so last minute!”

Dan laughs quietly. “You really love to gab, don’t you?” 

The water stops running. Dan observes Jon as he steps out of the shower, pats himself down with a white fluffy towel before wrapping it around his waist. He turns, then stops when he sees Dan, as if he was surprised to see him sitting there. Jon steps forward, closer to Dan, his dark, wet hair flat on his forehead. Dan has never seen him like this. It’s a different kind of intimacy than what they shared last night. Dan’s heart thuds in his chest.

Jon steps in between Dan’s legs and puts his hands on either side of Dan’s face, caressing his cheeks. 

“Just with you.”

Dan laughs and puts his hands on Jon’s waist, just above his towel. “You’re so cute.”

~

They have a speaking engagement at another college. On the way there, Jon leans on Dan’s shoulder while he looks over the outline for the show that night. They’re sitting in the back of the van, so no one else really notices.

“You’re not wearing a seatbelt?” Dan tells Jon in a hushed voice. “Tsk tsk.”

Jon shushes him, but Dan doesn’t shut up.

“You really like using me as a pillow, apparently.”

“You’re comfy,” Jon whispers. He pushes closer to Dan, practically headbutting him. “You’re like a teddy bear.”

“That’s not an accurate simile, but I appreciate the sentiment behind it.”

Jon makes a quiet “hmm” noise and puts his hand on Dan’s thigh. “What about - what about a sexy blue-eyed teddy bear?” 

“I can deal with that.”

Dan’s snapped out of his own little world with Jon by someone audibly, dramatically clearing their throat.

“It’s funny how you guys think you’re being sneaky,” Travis says from the front seat, way louder than he needs to. 

“We’re not even touching!” Lovett yells back.

“I was talking about Jon and Dan, but thanks.”

Tommy erupts into laughter, muttering “Jesus Christ” under his breath, which makes Lovett and everyone else, especially Jon and Dan, start to laugh. Jon doesn’t move his head from Dan’s shoulder.

Dan smiles to himself and puts his hand over Jon’s on his thigh. He’s so lucky.

~

The show later that night wasn’t much to speak of, but it went great, tiredness and the lack of a guest considered. They had some insightful conversations without the pomp and circumstance. It was a break from the norm of a live show, in some ways, but no one seemed to mind. Dan could also be romanticizing it because he wants to stay there, on a poorly-lit stage in Portland, Maine, because that’s somewhere he and Jon could continue to be in the same place.

Now, they’re at an airport for the final time in a while. The ache in Dan’s throat and chest makes him want to say something stupid to Jon like, _Hey. Let’s run away together._

It’s a fun thought, Dan thinks as he sits next to Jon with his arm casually draped around his shoulders. A hypothetical, theoretical thought. Possible but not probable. Dan doesn’t live in that world very often, where bright-eyed idealism and dreams are enough. Jon makes him want to live in that world. 

Jon notices Dan staring at him and looks up to meet his eyes. As usual, Jon is wearing his emotions on his face. He looks concerned and a little sad. Dan knows he probably looks sad, too.

“Are you okay?” Jon asks. 

“Not particularly,” Dan sighs. 

“Me either.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Dan says. 

Jon blinks and repeats Dan’s words back to him. Dan’s noticing a theme there. They do that a lot. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Dan and the LA squad have different flights home, with different connections. This moment has happened on every tour they’ve gone on in the past year -- the moment when they’re all tired and just want to go home. Dan still feels that way, but he also wants to sit with his arm around Jon for a little while longer, rub his shoulder and count the grey flecks in his hair. Jon hasn’t pulled his phone out the entire time they’ve been sitting here. Neither has Dan. It almost makes Dan feel even sadder, that they’re both going to miss one another so much they’ll forgo anything that might distract from this moment.

“Remember when you left the White House and you stopped by my office for the last time?” Dan asks.

“Yeah.”

“This is like that but a thousand times worse.”

“Yeah,” Jon murmurs. “It is.”

The last time Jon stepped into Dan’s West Wing office, he sat on the edge of Dan’s desk instead of the heating register, so much closer than normal. Dan thought it was funny, breaking a routine for your last time doing something. He wrote about it in his journal with that in mind and carefully recalled how Jon crumpled up papers on Dan’s desk that Dan was just going to throw away, as though he needed something to do with his hands while they talked. Before Jon left, he hugged Dan, wrapped his long arms around Dan’s neck tight, even though Dan was meeting him and some other friends for dinner that weekend. It still felt too final, that last office chat.

This isn’t that; they both have a lot more freedom to see each other now, but leaving Jon makes Dan’s heart hurt all the same. 

Dan looks at his phone just to check the time.

“My flight will be called in, like, ten minutes,” he says.

Jon doesn’t say anything. 

They sit for awhile, Dan rubbing his hand over Jon’s bicep. They sit and watch the commotion of the airport, watch their coworkers lounging around them. 

Tommy is taking up four seats, lying down with his head pillowed in Lovett’s lap. On the floor, Travis, Elijah, Tanya, and Juliet are sitting like ducks in a row. None of them seem sad, only sleepy.

Lovett moves his headphones off so they’re around his neck and looks down at Tommy, who appears awfully close to falling asleep. 

“What a face,” he mumbles, passing his fingers through Tommy’s hair once. 

Tommy stirs awake at the touch and grumbles, “Hmm?”

“You’re like a sexy lighthouse keeper,” Lovett tells him.

Dan can see Tommy smile even though he’s laying down, hears him quietly reply, “Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Dan hears a chipper female voice saying his flight number to San Francisco over the loudspeaker.

“That’s me,” Dan says, exhaling a breath. He removes his arm from Jon’s shoulders and stands up, reaching for his suitcase. 

“Bye, Dan,” Jon says with a sigh, trying to smile but looking like someone kicked his puppy.

Dan reaches over with the arm that was around Jon’s shoulders and squeezes his hand. “Bye.”

“See ya, guys,” Dan says to everyone else after he turns around, making to go to the gate. 

“Bye, Dan!” Tanya waves. The rest of them copy her in some fashion. Tommy smiles at him, his head still pillowed on Lovett’s thigh. 

Dan listens to their conversations start to pick up as he walks away. He hears the booming voice that he’s come to recognize as Travis shout, “Man, I love this song!”

There’s some more commotion and then Travis sings, dramatic and committing to it, drawing out the first note:

_I get weak when I look at you_  
_Weak when we touch_  
_I can't speak when I look in your eyes_  


Dan stops walking and listens. Of course Travis likes Belinda Carlisle, he thinks. Then again, everyone likes that song.

Dan stopping makes him realize that if he turned around, he could see Jon one more time. 

He turns around and looks at Jon, sitting all slumped in his chair, chin in his hand as he looks at his phone. Dan hates it, immediately feels pulled towards him. He mutters “fuck” under his breath and walks back towards Jon, retracing his steps. Dan’s almost there when Jon notices and looks up. He himself looks like a kicked puppy now, big brown eyes staring at Dan. 

Dan drops to his knees on the floor, which makes Jon sit up and set his phone aside, mouth parted in shock. Dan puts his hands on Jon’s knees, not knowing or caring how ridiculous he probably looks. 

“Jon?” Dan says.

“Yeah, Dan? What --”

“I love you.”

Dan watches Jon’s facial expression completely change from sad to happy to in awe. He grins and takes Dan’s face in his hands, just like he did earlier that morning.

“Oh, wow,” Jon says, tracing his thumbs over Dan’s cheekbones. “I love you, too.”

Dan moves to stand up so he can kiss Jon. He tries not to smile into it but fails, feeling Jon’s soft lips against his. Behind him, Dan can hear a chorus of “awws.”

Dan pulls away, but gives Jon a couple final pecks as he goes.

“You should probably get going,” Jon says. He doesn’t sound quite as downtrodden as he did earlier.

“Yeah,” Dan turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to Jon’s cheek. “Talk to you Thursday?”

“Of course,” Jon giggles. He holds onto Dan as Dan walks away, until he steps out of reach and he can’t anymore.

Dan boards his plane with a smile, thinking about Jon’s face.

He has so much to write about when he gets home.


End file.
